


no matter

by JeanSouth



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, Short, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-16
Updated: 2015-10-16
Packaged: 2018-04-26 17:05:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5012863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JeanSouth/pseuds/JeanSouth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Something hungry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	no matter

**Author's Note:**

> selfindulgent and written for the pleasure of rereading it in days to come

The prince looked improper.

He had on dark clothing, browns and greens and a lovely velvet chocolate mask trimmed in emeralds, shoots of green shining threads scrawling across it as though they wished to touch his cheek.

But the prince smelled like wine on his breath from a ball long past its prime, curled under the apple trees at the centre of the maze like something born from fruit and caressed by nature.

As he sat, his collar unfurled and his cravat gone to the dark of night, he looked improper.

The cool night air nipped at his skin, paled by its reclusion from the sun's loving kiss--

No matter. The sun was not the only one who could kiss, carress.

"Are you trying to tempt me, prince?" the words dripped from his tongue, unbidden but true. They seemed to startle as the sound of fabric rustling shocked the silent night around them.

Quickly, with hands only a slight unsteady, the prince sought his neck-cloth and found himself in want of it. It lay a good few yards away, almost mocking in its stark whiteness.

"No," the prince replied, and Oikawa could believe. Ushijima was nothing if not pure and chaste and _unbitten_ , unstirred, the smooth fresh sheet of first ice the moment before dawn.

_(The tempation of hearing the ice's first crack--)_

"Are you certain?" he licked at his lips, his teeth, sharp and made for biting, aching for just that.

"Entirely," he had a cool, cool voice; perhaps his clothing had been sent to tempt in his stead, slipping from wine-heavy fingers to drive Oikawa to sin, or wild with the desire.

"But may I not taste regardless?" his fingers landed on soft fabric as he came closer, gut twisting and heart pounding at the glimpse of pale (smooth, unbitten, tempting) skin before him.

"Taste?" tense shoulders under Oikawa's fingers, tenser when he leaned close enough to breathe on skin, close enough to taste if only a yes would slip between them. His hot breath, hotter presence spoke for itself. When he received no answer, Ushijima repeated himself; "One taste?"

Curiosity warred with anxiety in his sigh; the sound echoing dusty books of the danger of men in dark places.

"One taste." he said eventually, and leaned his head away when nudged.

One taste was enough; drinking deep and terrible and awe-inspiring.

The prince looked more improper dazed beneath the apple tree, bite-bruised and bare.


End file.
